The Howl and the Haul
by morgyse
Summary: The ironclad love of a pack isn't sugar-coated; it's a bond stripped to the bone. Derek can't heal Lydia himself, but for the sake of the pack he ventures out of their territory to seek help among the "community" of werewolves. One-shot in installments, just in time for the season 2 premier. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

The air in the hospital was dry and grating, with chemical smells covering the odor of sickness. Cold white light shone on the sheets of Lydia's bed, thin after years of bleaching. Her vitality was marked by slow mechanical beeps, but her face was covered in gashes and her bandages needed changing hourly, even now, many days after her attack.

She slept. It was fitful, but she had not regained consciousness since her arrival. Even so, Allison had not left her side - the nurses said it was sweet devotion, and Allison didn't bother to correct them. Lydia was her friend and had reached out to her when she had been new in town. Seeing her like this stirred a base human sympathy in Allison. So did her realization that Lydia had no other visitors. Lydia's parents were still trying to get their divorce lawyer to draw up schedules for when each of them would see their daughter.

Allison's thoughts were mostly on another pair - her own father and his sister. Allison's aunt was lately dead, killed by the same werewolf who had attacked Lydia. It was proving impossible to untangle her adoration for her aunt from the knowledge that she had been a cold-blooded werewolf killer. Maybe her death was justified and the revenge of her heartless attacks was fair, but each time Allison's mind wandered down that road, her senses revolted and she felt nauseous. Her father's face floated nearby - not just in Allison's mind but beyond the windows of Lydia's hospital room. He didn't feign a visitor's intimacy and instead stalked the halls outside. Like his sister, he had killed werewolves and would kill again. If Lydia's wounds led to lycanthropy, then the moment she threatened human life, Chris Argent was ready to execute her. Unlike his sister, he was waiting for provocation, willing to give her a chance. At least that's what he had told Allison, but she was skeptical after being lied to so much. This was the real reason Allison sat by the bed, day and night; even if Lydia was a real bitch, Allison couldn't stand anymore bloodshed.


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital parking lot was the current headquarters of Lydia's true fans - her pack. Or at least the trio that would become her pack if she survived. And they didn't care if she was a sweetheart or a psychopath - she was theirs. Scott and Derek, the Alpha, took turns keeping a handle on their other new addition. Unable to control the extremes of his emotions even as a human, Jackson had spent his first day as a werewolf transforming from wolfman to young man and back again, over and over. While in werewolf form, he fought fiercely. Scott and Derek took turns containing him in the wooded acres near the hospital, while the other kept an eye on Lydia's window. Scott had the idea to ply Jackson with hard liquor when he returned exhausted to human form. This was about the extent of Scott's problem-solving skills, but it was taking the edge off Jackson's frenzied transformations.

It was in one of these lulls, extending the bottle to Jackson, that Scott saw Dr. Deaton, his boss at the vet clinic, step through the automated doors of the intensive care unit. Deaton made straight for Derek, who looked anything but casual, loitering in the parking lot by himself. Scott's ears pricked up to catch the conversation a quarter mile away.

"It's serious, Derek," Deaton muttered. "I've never seen anything like it." Derek said nothing in response. "This is pushing the edge of my knowledge. I'm sorry."

There was no more sound until Deaton's car pulled out of the parking lot. Scott glanced at Jackson for a reaction, and saw that the boy was crumpled at the foot of a tree, dozing gently. Scott whispered, soft enough to barely form the words, "What now, Derek?" His Alpha heard him clearly, and Scott could practically see Derek's angry squint.

"Got any good ideas?" The bitter voice shot back.

"How would I know what to do?" Scott's teenage defensiveness sprang into action. "You're the one who should know. I've only been a werewolf for a semester!" Derek said nothing - they had already exchanged caustic words that morning about Derek stealing Scott's only chance at humanity - killing the old Alpha himself. For Scott, it was momentarily forgotten. "No, really, what are you going to do?" Derek wasn't ignoring him, but an idea started to materialize in the fog of Scott's understanding. "Derek, you can't...you can't let her die."

"Let her? I don't like to wait," Derek rumbled, pensively. "Stay with Jackson," he commanded. Scott suddenly felt rooted to the spot, just as his heart leapt and strained to tear after Derek, who was moving slowly toward the hospital doors. Scott was torn between this strange obligatory obedience that Derek could suddenly command, and his own impulse to protect a friend from harm.

Scott's hearing was attuned so closely to hear Derek's languid footsteps that he was unprepared as Stiles' voice boomed across his senses. "Hiya, Derek!"

Scott had never been so glad to hear his best friend's voice, never so glad that Stiles was still human and therefore under no compulsion (excepting his fear) to listen to a thing a werewolf said to him. Derek tried to brush him aside, but Stiles was too pleased with himself to be ignored. "Look, I know you're having trouble with Lydia." He must have received Derek's angry squint. "Hey, no one's perfect," Stiles went on, "I just figure you would have fixed her by now if you could, but you haven't, so you can't. It's okay to feel ashamed, real men cry, you know?" Derek was a lot closer to piqued annoyance than tears, but Stiles carried on. "You know what else real men do? They ask for help."

"Help?" Derek finally acknowledged Stiles, no longer asserting his control, and with that Scott was able to move again. He headed toward them at a dead run. "There's no help to ask for, Stiles. Did you notice a welcoming committee when Scott was bit? Have you seen me going off to congratulation parties for graduating to Alpha?"

"No, but all wolves can't be as crazy as your dear old uncle," Stiles put forth boldly. Derek began to advance on him and Stiles was cowering by the time Scott reached them. Derek threw a glance at the woods, but the gentle rhythm of Jackson's heartbeat was clearly audible.

Scott stood beside Stiles and squared off with his Alpha. "You've got to listen to Stiles, Derek. We'll find someone who knows what's up with Lydia. There must be others, someone who can help us."

"There are others," Derek said scornfully, "and maybe they could figure out what's wrong with Lydia, and hell, they may even know how to fix her. But I don't have any favors to cash in, and advertising your weaknesses is a good way to wind up dead."

"Wind up dead? Don't be dramatic," Stiles scoffed. Derek's dark "Ha!" sent him scrambling behind Scott.

"I don't know what would happen to you, Stiles," Derek said, shaking his head, "but I know a couple of our kind who'd be happy to cut our throats and take my family's land. Nothing personal, business as usual. You don't show off your liabilities, you don't share your troubles - you deal with it inside the pack!"

"Well then it's probably bad that I posted this on CaliWerewolfAllies dot net," Stiles piped up from where he crouched. "Tarahumara84 said if we'll come get her from Redding she'll look at Lydia."


	3. Chapter 3

The drive to Redding was so dull it gave Derek nothing to do but imagine his own grisly demise. Stiles' online connection had none other than Dr. Deaton as a reference. Deaton said she had been a friend and source of medical know-how when he had first gotten sucked irreversibly into the world of werewolves. Derek couldn't help thinking that the healer would likely poison the Beacon Hills wolves right before her Alpha stole their land.

But he drove on. Stiles had been so resourceful and Scott had been so whiny - they both were set against losing Lydia. For the sake of morale, Derek made saving her his only option.

Jackson reclined next to him in the car, chilled out on Valium so he didn't ruin its interior. He remained peacefully in human form. Scott was left "in charge" of their territory. Night was falling, and as they approached the town Derek's doubts about the trip ate at him. Jackson's voice floated past, "Derek, are the wolves in Redding dangerous?"

Derek heaved a sigh. "If you are cool with animals, they're cool. If you provoke them, you get a fight." As if in answer, three Betas appeared in his headlights.

"I thought we were cool," Jackson whispered. Derek grimaced. He was outmatched, even factoring in that one of the Betas was visibly pregnant.

"Get out," she barked.

"Don't move," Derek instructed Jackson and swung his door open. He advanced on the three, their breath rising in eerie clouds in the cold air.

"The puppy too," said one of the other two Betas as they circled around him.

"You'll talk to me," Derek spat.

"You don't get to call the shots. Don't you know our Alpha is Santiago!" The third piped up. He opened his shirt collar and let the smell of his skin carry across the air, offering bold proof that they were who they said they were.

Derek wondered how much of this Jackson was picking up on. They smelled strongly of an Alpha who Derek had never met. That meant they spent plenty of time with him and were probably high on the totem pole of their pack. Derek did not know who the local Alphas were or where their territories started or stopped, but he took a shot in the dark. "Aren't you all a little far from home?"

"Truce on Larry's land!" The third Beta said defensively.

"Then what are we all doing here?" Derek challenged. Grins spread across the Betas' faces. Derek could see the truce wasn't going to do him any good tonight. He braced for an attack - who would strike first?

Jackson's whine snapped Derek's attention to the pregnant linebacker, who was dragging the boy from the car. Derek started toward them, but was caught and pulled back by the other two. The provocation was enough, and he swung out. The whole welcoming party shifted to wolf form immediately, imprudent and uncontrolled. Derek stayed in his human form, stronger than any of them individually, but not two or three. He bodyslammed the closest, throwing him back, and then barely dodged the other's slash. He saw the third attacker headbutt Jackson, which knocked him out immediately. Suddenly there was a burst of powder in the air, and he caught a whiff of wolfsbane quickly enough to bury his nose in the lining of his jacket. The others were riled and whipped into a wild frenzy. They ran off in three different directions. Derek suspected he wasn't alone yet, but he was in a headlock before he could locate anyone.

"Don't move, or I'll rub your face in it," said his captor.


	4. Chapter 4

"You won't like what happens next," Derek warned the wolfsbane markswoman.

"I don't want a fight," she murmured doubtfully. Derek strained and she tightened her hold, but she was too slight to keep him down. He broke her grip and flipped her over so she landed hard on the road. A sharp crack sounded, but it wasn't her body that broke.

"Man, that was my djembe!" She rolled over slowly - too slowly, Derek noted, unreasonably weak for a werewolf - and she examined the pieces of the drum that had been strung across her back. Brushing off her wrap-around skirt and colorful kerchief, she peered up at Derek, "Dude, I was just trying to help - "

"You attacked me," Derek growled. He expected a retort, but she just winced and tucked her head. Derek was braced for an enemy. He took a minute to loosen his muscles and recall that, as an Alpha, he commanded a new respect, even outside his pack, which could cut off retorts.

"What's wrong with your Beta?" she asked without making eye contact, shivering on the asphalt in her patchwork jacket.

Derek turned to look at Jackson, who was not badly injured but not about to come-to. "Just unconscious," he replied. His attention returned to the three Betas, straining his senses to detect if they were headed back this way.

"Not that, he's a real mess," she pressed. "Smells like he's right on the verge, ready to turn even though he's knocked out. And that's underneath the smell of the home remedies."

Derek raised his voice over hers. "Those Betas could come back anytime. I need to get to Larry's. You'll show me the way."

She nodded sharply. She began covering the traces of their presence, just as she had been taught. She kicked the shards of her drum to the side of the road. When she bent to brush away what powdered wolfsbane has landed there, she found herself far too close to the powerful Alpha from Beacon Hills. He too had moved to hide the wolfsbane. They finished the task from a distance. She climbed in the passenger side of the car. Derek tossed Jackson in the back seat. She kept her jacket collar up to her ears the whole ride, hiding any information her scent would have given away.


	5. Chapter 5

Under the passing street lights, Derek saw the woman's eyes were sunk deep in her face and the black circles around them were in no way cosmetic. A hint of a smile crinkled those eyes when slight snoring began to emanate from the back seat, but her only words were directions of where to turn.

When he parked, they were in a lonely part of town. He followed her up a winding staircase, and the jangling of the beads and keys she wore was followed by the groaning of the steps under his weight. The door at the top opened on a small apartment made intimate by werewolves everywhere; they were arguing, grinding, laughing, heckling, and leering. The smells of sweat, sex, and substances washed over Derek. Half the lightbulbs were smashed and furniture was wrecked. It was a werewolf kingdom.

He hesitated on the threshold, so she muttered, "The Alphas are through there, kitchen table." Derek said nothing, but as she watched him cross the room, she thought she saw him amp up the swagger in his walk. She heard his voice boom from the kitchen, but it was quickly drowned out by the rest of the booming voices.

Larry himself was there, and it turned out he was the most barrel-chested of them all and his greeting of Derek was the closest a werewolf got to "friendly" - none of the other Alphas in the room could have achieved a truce, but it was instantly clear how Larry had. One thing he couldn't change was the eternal struggle to maintain face; for no reason at all, the conversation was carried on practically at shouting level. When Derek walked in they shouted accolades about his family. They shouted about remembering when he was born. They shouted when they found out one woman at the table didn't recognize Derek by name. "Derek here is the last of the Hales," one of the Alphas shouted.

"Not anymore," Derek shouted, donning a cocky smile. "In Beacon Hills, we'll bite 'em all before we bite the dust!" It was a tired old adage about turning humans, but the Alphas thought it was uproarious coming from the younger generation. As the laughter was dying down, a couple of them studied him seriously for the first time. Just how big was his pack?

There was a little suspicion in the voice of the Alpha who asked, "What brings you to town, Mr. Hale?"

Derek stuck his chin out - he couldn't let them guess that Lydia was sick. "I'm borrowing Maria the Healer. She's training some of my Betas."

"You can't borrow what nobody owns," one of the Alphas said grimly. It was a cryptic statement that hung there in the silence that followed.

"Maria's very good at making herself useful," Larry countered congenially, but didn't push it. Someone changed the subject to an accident in the train yard, where a number of their Betas worked, and then they were on to boasting about who had the chromiest vintage car.

"Will you take me to her?" Derek asked Larry, confiding at a normal volume.

"Maria? Well, you walked in with her, so she's around here somewhere," Larry affirmed earnestly. Derek checked himself to keep from expressing his surprise, and he tried to reconcile the pipsqueak from the highway with Deaton's account of the esteemed healer.


	6. Chapter 6

Larry called over one of his Betas and spoke to him for a minute before the young man gestured for Derek to follow him. They turned a couple corners and arrived at a room with the window open wide despite the cold. Under a thick cloud of smoke sat a handful of deadbeats and Derek's new friend from the highway, apparently Maria the Healer.

She was in an argument with another Beta, who spurned with some enjoyment, "Jonas just says he don't want you around the Garage anymore, since he found out you've been asking Scooter to teach you about foreign cars."

"What does he care?" Maria wailed. "What a lame-ass excuse - "

"Well, he don't like it," her accuser reported, "and he says you're doing more harm than good, leaving your bottles of the poison drink where the kids can get 'em." Maria put her head in her hands. "And leave Annie alone while you're at it," he continued, noticing a vampy teen who had just squeezed into the room. The girl made a rude gesture and offered Maria a beaker of viscous fluid. He threw his hands up and left in disgust.

One of the other Betas in the room offered Derek a joint. Derek declined, and stood cross-armed in the doorway, glaring generally until Maria finished drinking the contents of the beaker. "God!" She yelled when she came up for air. "I hate the games Alphas play." There were grunts of agreement from around the room, but no one got very interested.

"In that case," Derek cut in, "you should ask your Alpha for protection." There were some giggles in response.

"Would that I fucking could," Maria snapped. "You know why?" She stepped right up to him, pulling back her sleeve and exposing the soft flesh of her wrist. She was offering her story - the wordless version. Derek leaned in and took the briefest whiff. The room got silent, waiting for his reaction.

He was unshocked. Really, he couldn't wait to get home to the silence of the forest.

"Okay, so you're lone," he said dully. She had no Alpha. "I'm sure your new Alpha is attending to other business and will come for you once he or she's ready." Derek had been this way for a month or two after his sister died and before his uncle had asserted his authority.

She looked Derek right in the eye. "I told myself that for the first six months," she said, coolly. Involuntarily, Derek's face twitched just a bit. After six months lone, most of their kind faded and died. Then she answered his next question. "My Alpha has been dead for five years."

So she was a body that walked around without a head. A kind of gagging growl squeezed through Derek's throat. This broke the tension - all the creeps in the room giggled and returned to their previous conversations. Maria shivered and looked away.

"And the poison?" Derek didn't want to ask, but they were too far down this unnatural road to turn back.

She picked up her beaker and swirled the dregs. "A small dose of water hemlock can kill a human; a larger dose can take out even an Alpha like you. I discovered by chance that it sustains me." She had seen contempt and offense at her manner of living so many times, she didn't need to see it in his face. She groaned out, "So what about you? Are you taking me with you or not?"

"After what I've seen so far..." Derek began dubiously.

"Are you kidding?" The girl who had brought Maria the beaker leaned over her to hiss at Derek. "She's a great medic and chemist."

"Ann is my student -" Maria tried to explain.

Ann carried on. "She lived in Mexico with the Tarahumara Indians for a year and learned all their secrets of healing herbs, but then she came back to California. She helped Larry with the truce -"

"Larry tried," Maria cut in, "to set me up like some kind of neutral advisor when I got here, so none of the Alphas would try to enlist me. I sure am lying in the bed I made. Without pack duties, I devoted myself to my medicine-making, and my musicianship - when I had my djembe - and my carpentry, and my accounting; I read three books on English garden design, for Christ's sake. People are understanding when you're a beginner, but then time passes - now I'm getting tossed out on my ass by the mechanics. When people start to see - when YOU start to realize your own mediocrity, then it's time to move on." Ann looked away from her mentor in her sorry state.

Derek shrugged, a little assaulted by her private revelations. Maria stood, and indicated that Derek should walk with her. When they reached the front door, her eyes burned like lasers. "Look, my Alpha was...prolific...with biting humans to grow our pack - and then sacrificing them in territory battles and then biting more humans. I may be an amateur at everything else, but I've seen the Change go wrong every which way. That's why I replied to your post about your new puppy. I can help you."

"And you need a ticket out of here." Derek inferred.

"I'll move on at the first sign she's improving," she swore.

"Why should I believe you can help?" he demanded.

She twisted her lips in exasperation. "I'm pretty sure if you had a better option, you wouldn't be talking to me."

All her worldly possessions fit into a small backpack. She filled it without saying any goodbyes, and then they were on the road.


	7. Chapter 7

Derek got her a motel room and told her when he'd return the next morning to take her to see Lydia. Maria laid her head on the pillow, and dreams of a pack she knew nothing about began to rock her brain.

* * *

In the dream, Maria kept looking for a white coat, which she needed to be wearing to diagnose Lydia, but no one would give her one. She gave up looking and sat down to grind, grind, grind the mortar and pestle. Scott and Stiles helped her apply a chelation of bolete mushrooms and bezoin resin. Lydia was coming to consciousness and strength, surrounded by the overly positive encouraging faces of her pack-brothers. Maria had her hobo bundle tied to the end of a stick, but Derek turned her around to show her where a greenhouse was rising out of the ground. First the wooden frame shot into place, then Jackson threw each glass plate against the frame, where they stuck. Lydia was wearing a tiara and a frown, but she was there to learn about horticulture from Maria, who couldn't stop herself from cracking a whip overhead. Lydia inquired about the water hemlock potion. Maria didn't like her tone when she asked and wouldn't teach her a thing about it.

Jackson was preparing for the full moon on his own, when Maria pushed him into the beam of light where the rest of his pack was running together. Everyone in the light gave each other high fives. Maria tried to join in from where she stood in the darkness, but she couldn't reach.

Derek caught Maria trying to apply for work in the fabric store. She had traded her gardening gloves for scissorhands. "What are you doing?" he demanded.  
"I could get a job in this. I love fibres. I worked with the Tarahumara on weaving."  
"You can't use these in the greenhouse," he said, taking off her scissorhands and giving her his own hands to use instead. The first thing Maria did with her new hands was to clear a work area to show Lydia the water hemlock recipe. The next day they grew some new hands for Derek.

Derek was chasing Maria with a hair brush. Big chunks of her skin were flaking off and getting in his way, but he finally caught her. He parted her hair to reveal her white roots, and she started to cry. "You'll die if you stay lone," he howled.  
"I will be your Beta, not your puppet," she whispered through her teeth. "I submit if -"  
"There are no conditions for your loyalty," Derek snarled back. "Now say it slower."  
"I...run...with...you," Maria whispered. In her heartsong, her admiration rang like a bell. Satisfied, Derek unrestrained his wolf snout, and bit his wrist. Maria attempted pitifully to do the same, so Derek caught her arm and bit it himself. Their blood began pooling on the floor as they touched their wounds together. They both gasped and shook, gripping each others arms with claws out, soaking each other in their blood. Derek felt another piece of himself leave his jurisdiction. Maria felt arms around her for the first time in years.

In the middle of an afternoon of chores, Maria's former student Ann drove a freight train through the greenhouse. As shattered glass swirled around them, Ann called, "Get in, we're going back to Redding! They're giving you a medal for multi-tasker of the year."  
Maria crawled over to a switch in the frame of the greenhouse and flipped it, turning on a big magnet in Redding. Ann was sucked away, tooting the whistle until they couldn't hear her anymore. Derek put his hand on Maria's shoulder and said, "There's a lot of work to be done today." She began melting the glass into plates again. "Yes, and I can't wait to do it."

* * *

Maria woke at dawn. She wanted to revisit all the lucid places her mind had taken her, both disastrous and delicious. She was removing things from her skills list, which meant not adding "psychic intuition." She made herself dismiss the dream.


	8. Chapter 8

Heavy cloud cover strangled any chance for a pretty sunrise that morning, as Derek rolled into the motel's gravel parking lot. There was no chance of stealth here, and he checked his surroundings while approaching the room. His plan was to get this woman into his Beta's hospital room, distract Argent long enough for her to fix Lydia or find out what blood he would need to spill to fix her himself, and then to be done cleaning up the last mess his uncle had left behind. He could have the woman on a bus by evening, and start the next chapter in his pack's life within 24 hours.

His expression was hard as he rapped on the door, alone in the humble portico. His knuckles struck the door again, and there was more silence. He tried the handle, which was locked. He cleared his throat, and muttered, "Mrria." She was of his kind; there was no need to be any louder. The sun was up; there was no reason she shouldn't be. He stilled his edgy nerves and listened. There was neither breathing nor palpitation in the room, which suddenly made him more nervous than before. He checked the door for signs of forced entry.

"Your girl's checked out," said a withered laundry staff woman, passing by with an armful of bedclothes.

Derek felt rage, like a tide, begin to come in. He turned back to the parking lot, and there, emerging from the trees, was the healer.

Derek held his car door open in a silent command. She found herself bristling under an unwanted sense of accountability, but she got in, and he steered them toward the hospital. She settled her bag so it wouldn't crush the contents. She had been gathering bolete mushrooms, "Just in case," she told herself.


End file.
